The Consequences Of A Letter
by Manchester
Summary: A greasy git mused, *I wonder if I can manipulate things so that all of those idiots manage to wipe each other out, including that Potter brat, leaving me the sole survivor. Headmaster Snape, Vanquisher of Voldemort. That has a rather nice ring to it.*
1. Chapter 1

*_Two seconds!_ Two whole bloody seconds was all it took for things to go wrong!*

As the man bitterly reflected upon this while huddled in the darkest corner of the noisome alley he'd fled into at a dead run, Severus Snape continued gasping for breath, his lungs on fire due to his unaccustomed exertions rather than to the noxious fumes that were permeating every single molecule of air in the neighborhood. But then, after years as a Potions Master, the black-clad wizard was more than accustomed to breathing in unpleasant stenches, particularly after one of his non-Slytherin pupils had a cauldron explosion in class and lost as many points for their house as Snape could contemptuously confiscate.

His Order of the Phoenix companions had no such immunity. Not even Mad-Eye Moody, the master of paranoia, had set up a Bubble Head Charm for himself in advance, and that former Auror, along with the others, was unable to cast this spell while thoroughly puking onto their boots after drawing in their first breath of Ankh-Morpork's fetid atmosphere directly after completing their dimensional journey to the Discworld from Hogwarts Castle.

A half-hearted sneer then appeared upon Snape's lips, as that mystified man now recollected the next unbelievable events that had contributed to their group's disaster. The populace crowding the square where the wizards had abruptly appeared out of thin air hadn't even blinked at this sudden materialization of several people dressed up in robes into their vicinity, not even when all of these strangers (save for Snape himself) had promptly started throwing up. Instead, one of the mob had then casually walked over to where Moody was bending over and losing his dinner, with this sauntering individual smoothly removing from his clothing a cosh that was then expertly used, clouting the massively-scarred Moody into prompt unconsciousness with a single swing of their arm.

When the one-eyed Auror collapsed, out cold, onto the cobblestones of the square, this attacker had then pulled out a piece of lined paper and a pencil from his shirt pocket, to begin laboriously writing on the paper, as his foot was indifferently propped upon the top of the now-snoring wizard's head. Rather than this action causing any alarm to the rest of the crowd, they instead called out various praises for the assailant's technique, along with assorted guesses on how much he'd get after going through his victim's pockets.

After that, things went _really_ weird.

In his spot inside the stinking alley, Snape fiercely squeezed shut his eyes, yet this didn't manage to block out the horrific images forever seared into his brain:

- How Professor McGonagall, who'd then transfigured herself into her cat form, had dashed in a furry streak through the legs of the crowd, closely pursued by a little brown dog, with this chasing canine actually _talking _like a human, even if that mutt was gleefully yapping after a fleeing Scotswoman, "C'mon, you little bitch, what's so wrong with a little inter-species romance?"

- How Professor Flitwick was pulled aside by a group of half-sized people who seemed to consist solely of their beards and their iron clothing, as they joyously greeted that diminutive Charms Master, promptly considering him to be some kind of long-lost relative, all while starting to sing together in a deep bass chorus, "Gold, gold, gold…"

- How Molly Weasley and Arthur Weasley were sharing one more experience as a couple, just like they'd done all their married lives together, though before coming to the Discworld, neither of these parents of numerous carrot-topped offspring had ever imagined they'd be perched halfway up a building column, desperately clinging to opposite sides of this stone pillar, while below them a large female wolf with a blonde mane calmly sat down upon her haunches and licked her chops, patiently waiting for her prey to loosen their grips.

- How Hagrid was amiably strolling alongside a walking avalanche, enthusiastically saying to this massive stone creature, "Cor, blimey, troll ducks? I gotter get me a couple of those fer the next Care of Magical Creatures class! Now, just what d'yer feed 'em?"

- And finally, how Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Leader of the Light, and Twinkly-Eyed Manipulative Bastard, was being firmly held up in the air by the scruff of his garishly multi-colored robe, boots dangling several inches off the ground while being effortlessly carried off to the nearest Watch house. During all this, the elderly wizard still managed to protest, "Look here, young man, you don't have the faintest idea of the consequences of your actions! It's absolutely vital that Harry Potter comes back with us to Hogwarts, whether he likes it or not, so that he can be prepared for his final confrontation with Voldemort!"

The tall red-haired man in the scrupulously-clean Watch uniform continued his easy strides down the street, his left arm swinging up and down while holding the wizard's captured wand, and his right arm continuing to lift Dumbledore without the slightest strain. A thoughtful look now appeared upon the well-scrubbed features of this watchman after hearing his detainee's last words, as the officer now seriously spoke, "Oh, yes, Harry 'Oook' Potter. I believe he's the one who helped swear out the arrest warrant against you, and furthermore provided a truly accurate description of both yourself and every one of your compatriots should you ever indeed appear here in the city of Ankh-Morpork in order to commit the named crimes against that said person."

A flabbergasted Dumbledore still managed to splutter through his vomit-stained beard, "But, but, it's all for the greater good!"

"You can discuss that with Commander Vimes, sir," phlegmatically answered the watchman still carrying his prisoner. "He's most anxious to meet with you regarding the accusation of attempted kidnapping, not to mention everything else. If you're fortunate enough, that's as far as it'll go, and the Patrician won't get involved. Now, before you meet with the commander, I'm sure you'll appreciate the chance to tidy up first. This week, Corporal Nobbs is in charge of the cells, and he's a dab hand with a razor. Just remember to keep your head absolutely still, and there won't be any need for an Igor…."


	2. Chapter 2

Back in the alley, Severus Snape shuddered at that last memory, seen over his shoulder as the Potions Master had run for it. Opening his eyes to glumly regard his garbage-strewn sanctuary, Snape wondered what in Merlin's name to do next-

An explosion of overwhelming agony unexpectedly struck the wizard, coming from a certain spot upon Snape's body. Frantically ripping up his robe's right sleeve with the other hand, the Hogwarts teach stared in fearful expectation at where his Dark Mark was glowing on that arm, as if the magical tattoo placed upon his skin was about to burst into flame. It certainly hurt as much, like that specific cruelty was actually going to happen right this second.

Instead, as Snape's symbol of his submission to a Dark Lord continued to torment the greasy-haired wizard, this man then groaned out loud, _"He's_ here."

Several miles away, a monster arrogantly strode towards the massive front doors of Unseen University, his eyes fixed upon his goal, while all else around him was haughtily ignored. Behind Lord Voldemort, he was being followed by his entire retinue of Death Eaters and other vile allies, including those recently freed from Azkaban. This evil wizard exultantly reflected to himself that with just one simple taking of a young boy's life, he would be forevermore free of that miserable prophecy.

Things had certainly changed from a mere three years ago, when he'd been nothing more than a drifting wraith, his body destroyed nearly a decade before during Voldemort's attack upon the Potter family in their home at the wizarding community of Godric's Hollow. Yet, an entirely unanticipated event had then occurred to completely change the Dark Lord's fortunes: the accidental horcrux he'd created when trying to murder baby Harry had somehow been removed from this youngster's body. Now that it was gone, Voldemort could again draw upon the power of his other horcruxes that had been blocked by the other, most recent piece of dark magic, to finally regain his original body and all of his immense powers.

The next couple of years went into building up again the Dark Lord's forces, which included the summons of every past Death Eater, and also making plans for the seizure of the wizarding world. All of this had been more than successful, save for one minor detail. After enough study, the being who'd formerly been Tom Riddle was confident that this time he could finally destroy that blasted child who'd balked him before, and a malevolent fiend set out to kill Harry Potter once and for all.

Unfortunately, Voldemort couldn't even _find_ the brat at first. Still, after one of his smarter Death Eaters had a brainwave and remembered that Lily Evans had spoken to her Hogwarts friends about a muggle sister, a prompt search was made, culminating in a raid upon a house at Privet Drive that ended in blood and death, and also total failure. Voldemort became absolutely furious at learning from the tortured muggles that their unwanted nephew had disappeared one day years ago, and he'd never been seen or heard from since. Clearly, Harry Potter had been spirited off back then by Dumbledore foreseeing this attack, and that boy would have to be found all over again.

A few days later, hoping to end the nonstop Crucios an enraged He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was inflicting upon his followers, a desperate Lucius Malfoy suggested that in a few months, Harry Potter would be sent his Hogwarts letter, and this young man would then travel to the magical castle in Scotland to begin his schooling. Surely, at some point during this, there'd be the chance to mount a successful assassination against the Dark Lord's enemy? After mulling this over, a more-cheerful Voldemort informed Severus Snape that his next task was to watch for something like this, and immediately report back to his master when that happened.

Well, soon enough, a certain Harry James Potter did indeed answer the usual letter sent by Professor McGonagall in her duties as Assistant Headmistress. Alas, this reply from that young man wasn't really what anybody had been expecting. At all.

There were a _lot_ of Crucios flying around at Death Eater Headquarters vis-à-vis that result.

For once in his life, Snape was regarded with honest warmth by his fellow villains when that wizard brought the wonderful news a week later. Despite the bizarre letter's warnings, Dumbledore was still totally determined to find and gain control of Harry Potter. Moreover, the Headmaster actually knew of a way to do this! "Now, Severus, this must be kept absolutely secret…"

It all wound up with two groups of wizards and witches, one at Hogwarts and one at Malfoy Manor, unknowingly chanting in unison their identical dimension-traveling spells, to then have both of these groups utterly vanishing from their ceremonial circles on their way to the Discworld. The only things differing among the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters was that this latter group had arrived a bit later than their opponents, and too, none of the evildoers, from Voldemort down, had even blinked at the unbelievable stench they'd just inhaled. All of this malignant crowd were more than accustomed to horrific odors in their attempts to overthrow the wizarding world. Compared to Azkaban, Ankh-Morpork was a flowerbed.

Much more distracting to the Dark Lord was the lure of vast magic emanating from a certain direction, right where there was an incredibly tall and crumbling tower….

Virtually all native citizens of the Big Wahoonie, whatever their species, shared certain attributes: a permanently numb sense of smell, extraordinary resistance to water-borne illnesses, and being harder to kill than a radioactive cockroach. They also possessed an uncanny ability to sense and avoid bad news in any form, which meant the streets ahead of Voldemort and his Death Eaters had promptly become totally deserted, as their malevolent leader and his wicked followers then marched straight to Unseen University and passed through the academy's open gates, without meeting any kind of opposition.

The Dark Lord finally came to a halt right before the massive front doors of the magical institution of higher learning, and with a dramatic flourish of his wand that was clearly meant to inspire his supporters standing behind himself, Voldemort now cast his spell that would open those huge panels, roaring out loud, "Alohomora!"

In response, the double doors to the university immediately slammed open, and right after that, Lord Voldemort stalked forward, once again shouting at the top of his lungs a demand to bring forth a certain boy named "POT-!"

From the inside of Unseen University, an incredible discharge of pure, immeasurable magic blasted forth, consisting of literally dozens of lethal spells, flashing through the air to strike directly a foolhardy dark wizard and his idiotic adherents, instantly disintegrating every single one of these people. Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Peter Pettigrew, Fenir Greyback, and so many more - they all became extinct right then and there, with only a single trace of their previous presence left to show that anyone had indeed dared to disturb the noon tranquility of the university.

Before the main entrance of the Discworld's premier magical academy, numerous pairs of footwear lying on the ground now stood completely empty, save for the necessary cliché of faint curls of smoke lazily ascending from the tops of these discarded wizarding boots and shoes.


	3. Chapter 3

After a long moment of frozen silence, numerous glares presently being sent over bulging cheeks towards the open doors and the remnants of the trespassers out there in the front courtyard then smoothed out to pleased contemplation, as all of the wizards (save two) at the main table of Unseen University's dining hall during lunchtime once again regarded the more agreeable contents of their full plates. Absently leaning their wizards' staffs against their chairs, the faculty members then simultaneously stabbed their forks into their interrupted meal, sending a loud, screeching sound throughout the entire hall as metal utensils scraped against china, which was then drowned out by the steady noise of champing jaws.

The newest pair of teaching staff placed down their wands upon the dining table, as both Sirius Black and Remus Lupin jovially reached out with their free hands towards the boy seated between themselves, giving the hair of this child a good rumpling. Chuckling, Sirius then commented right after Harry Potter's indignant squawk at this liberty, "So, pup, it looks like you were right about the prophecy."

As he clawed his tousled hair back from his unmarked forehead, this youngster glowered at his godfather and this man's friend from Hogwarts. Still, a happy smile soon replaced this dour look, as Harry smirked while twirling his own wand in his other hand, "Yeah, I hit Voldemort dead on, and that seemed to be enough to meet the requirements of that stupid prediction. After all, it didn't say anywhere that I had to face the berk alone. Not to mention that 'power the Dark Lord knows not' fit pretty well Discworld magic." Looking around the table, Harry now raised his voice, "Thanks for all your help, guys!"

The gorging wizards now momentarily paused in their meal to product a thundering chorus of approving belches, with several of these magic users even going so far as to cheerfully wave half-consumed turkey drumsticks in Harry's direction, before these portly men once again sank their teeth into these foodstuffs. Grinning, Harry turned to Sirius and Remus, but before he could say anything further, a small object dropped from higher up now bounced off the top of the young man's head, to then fall onto the table in front of Harry, revealing itself to be a hulled peanut shell.

"You, too, Dad!" again shouted Harry, as he peered upwards to the massive chandelier hanging in the ceiling rafters of the Main Hall. "Like I promised, the biggest bunch of bananas from the first Howondaland ship that docks later this week!"

Keeping his eyes fixed upwards, Harry was then rewarded by seeing a red-furred, lanky arm ending in a leathery hand the size of a pillowcase reaching out past the edge of the chandelier to give a very enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Still smiling, Harry brought his gaze back down to directly catch Sirius then giving him a rather odd look, one that was mirrored exactly upon Remus' face, when the startled boy now turned his head to see this. Swinging his attention back and forth between the two older wizards, Harry worriedly asked them, "Uh, did I say something wrong? I mean, I don't really remember anyone but the Librarian as my dad, but-"

"No!" yelped Sirius, while he traded a bemused stare with Remus. Ruefully shaking his head, the last son of the Black family told the attentive boy, "Harry, your birth father, Prongs, he would've laughed himself sick about what you just said, but our mate wouldn't have minded at all. Whatever else, James and Lily wanted you to be safe, happy, and cared for, and that bloke up there-" (Sirius momentarily flicked his gaze upwards) "-no matter what shape he is, he did all that. Me and Moony, we'll totally owe him for the rest of our lives, for taking you in and giving you a home and a family. Something both of us totally buggered up."

Blinking away the suspicious moisture that had abruptly appeared at the corners of his eyes, Harry let his sudden indignation at hearing those last few words take over, as the boy now reached out with both fists to gently punch the men on either side of him right in the middle of their chests, while also sternly telling the startled wizards, "Listen, you pair of prats, like I've been trying to tell you both ever since you came here, it wasn't your fault! Sirius, you got railroaded into Azkaban by that pillock Peter the Death Eater, and Remus, you were busy trying to deal with your lycanthropy when you fell for Dumbledork's line that it was necessary for me to stay completely away from anybody in the wizarding world who knew me!"

During this scolding, Sirius was momentarily distracted by a very pleasant recent memory, as his lips peeled back in a savage grin, with that man then gloating, "I think the rat saw me pointing my wand at him, Moony, pup. His eyes went as wide as saucers right before I shot off my worse spell, taken from one of the nastiest ever Black family grimoires. The only thing I regret is that everyone else's curses hit him and the rest of those arseholes right after that, so Peter didn't get a chance to _really_ suffer!"

From where Remus had been approvingly listening, a rumbling growl came from the werewolf, as this man also confirmed, "I hit Fenir dead on, too, Padfoot. Still, remember what James told us years ago: Even if your enemies don't know who specifically pranked them, they're still completely in the shite, and _you're_ off somewhere else with an iron-clad alibi and enjoying it all!"

Inspired by this mention of his birth father, leader of the finest pranksters ever to pester Hogwarts, Harry now grabbed his tankard off the dining table and lifted it high, as he intoned, "Gentlemen, a toast!"

The rest of Unseen University's faculty were currently preoccupied between deciding between the soup or fish course, so as they happily threw caution to the winds and chose to have both, these ravenous wizards ignored the small ceremony elsewhere at the table, while three former residents of the British wizarding world clinked their tankards together, and chorused, "Marauders forever!"

After Sirius had drained his beer mug and contently burped, a wistful expression did cross this man's lined face, as he expressed a last regret: "I just wish that Snape had been there. It would've been something of a challenge, but I think I could have gotten 'em both."

Wiping foam off his upper lip, Remus nodded in shared disappointment, though he again pointed out the slight flaw in their plot that the werewolf had brought back up then as their plans had been laid out several months ago. "It was always a fifty-fifty chance on where he'd be, with Voldemort or Dumbledore."

Unlike the older men, Harry had no personal history with Severus Snape, so the cold fury now in the eyes of the pre-teen was due to something else regarding that Potions Master. As he angrily shoved his empty tankard back onto the table, Harry grumbled, "Considering that the bastard was absolutely fine with me and my real father getting murdered and my mum then given to him by Riddle, I still think we should take care of some unfinished business-"

"_NO!_" loudly barked both Remus and Sirius in identical tones of absolute horror that managed to cause the entire table to again pause in mid-bite. As curious eyes glanced over where the two men were firmly shaking their heads towards a pouting child, the wizards then quickly reached a mutual accord among themselves that it was really none of their business. Plus, the dessert sherbet was about to be ladled out, which was far more important.

Over the scraping sounds of spoons and bowls being pushed into readiness under numerous triple-chins, Sirius now pled with Harry, "Pup, please listen to your older and wiser elders-"

Despite the gravity of the situation, Remus couldn't resist adding, "In your case, Padfoot, the first description is absolutely true and the second is completely false."

"Ha, ha," sarcastically sneered Sirius at his smirking friend, and the Animagus then tried again in his total earnestness as he once more addressed a sulking boy. "I'm telling you from the very bottom of my heart, Harry, the Patrician is _not _to be trifled with! If that bloke was ever thrown in Azkaban, he'd be running the whole place inside a week! Once he found about our scheme, Vetinari could've ended it then and there, and you know it, Harry. The only reason we were allowed to proceed, as the Patrician said himself, was that those idiots on both sides would've kept trying to get you in their clutches no matter what, unless we got rid of Voldemort and his incompetents first, which would also put paid to that entire bloody prophecy business."

Harry seemed to be a bit more cheerful now, as he smiled at his godfather while reminiscing, "And the first part of our plan - which had just me and the Librarian then - that eventually led to my Hogwarts letter, was to break you out of Azkaban."


	4. Chapter 4

"I actually thought I'd finally gone insane when I saw that upside-down face grinning at me through my cell window," admitted Sirius. "Fortunately, if you could call it that, I'd been through a visit by the Dementors the other day, and I was still in my Grim form recovering from that, so I knew right away that whatever was ripping out the bars had to be real. I still didn't care all that much about anything that'd happen next, though, so I didn't even bother struggling when that furry creature came in my cell, grabbed me, and then climbed back out the window with me over his shoulder. Considering there's no way it should have ever happened, it's no wonder the authorities spread around their story that I died in prison."

Remus nodded sadly. "I believed what the Daily Prophet reported, so I was totally unprepared later for encountering a three hundred pound orangutan either, and then being carried off to the Discworld." Pausing in his comments to start glowering at a snickering Harry, the werewolf grumbled, "I know it was definitely necessary to dose the both of us with Veritaserum at the same time then, but asking us the most embarrassing things we knew about each other was going a bit too far, Pronglet!"

"Absolutely!" heatedly agreed Sirius. Glancing around in sudden caution, that wizard lowered his voice into an irate hiss at a beaming Harry, "It didn't do my fragile mental health at that point any good for anyone else to know that I slept with an unicorn doll until I was seven to keep the bad dreams away!"

An unabashed Potter descendent simply lifted an eyebrow, and he then blandly informed the irked wizards, "I needed to be absolutely sure that none of you had betrayed my parents, and knowing your deepest, darkest secrets was just part of that. Besides, it worked in finally shutting you up about your horrible experiences involving changing my diapers, didn't it?"

Sighing, Remus leaned back in his chair and dolefully remarked to Sirius nodding in glum agreement, "He got that from Lily, you know. Our friend was totally vicious in her getbacks when we offended her. I think James knew he was truly in love with that girl when she caught him sneaking a look at her panties during a Quidditch practice match, and then hexed him to be unable to close his eyes or even blink for the next couple of hours. Even when we were in the next Care of Magical Creatures class and had to watch Hagrid breeding his pair of Blast-Ended Skrewts."

Sirius and Remus then simultaneously shuddered at their horrible memories of that day and grabbed for the nearest filled tankards, draining these to the last drop, all while ignoring a young boy who was roaring with laughter. As Sirius slammed his empty mug back down on the table, he mentioned the first thought that came into his head in an effort to change the whole embarrassing subject. "Harry, regarding Hagrid, I really think you'd like meeting him. He's quite the decent bloke, aside from his idiotic viewpoint that the most vicious animals in existence are just being a big soppy when they're tearing off his leg in their jaws."

Bringing down his own consumed tankard, Remus agreed, "Yes, some of the others in the Order of the Phoenix - Flitwick and Arthur Weasley, say - are good chaps in their own right."

His expression abruptly changing to one of disdainful coolness, Harry now reminded his companions, "Keep in mind that all of those people, including who you just mentioned, came here to the Discworld at Dumbledork's urging in order to make me attend Hogwarts by any means necessary. Something that I made absolutely clear in my letter that I didn't want to and wasn't going to do so. In effect, every one of them just willingly agreed to become an accomplice to kidnapping."

Playing the devil's advocate, Sirius sardonically remarked, "A good lawyer might argue entrapment. Especially since the defense's first witness is sitting just over there, and Remus would be asked right away exactly what he told the Order when that bearded pillock asked for suggestions on how to trace the letter back to where it'd been sent from."

Looking down his nose at his smirking friend, Remus haughtily answered, "All I said back then was that my researches had produced a spell that would allow the Order to travel to where Harry was. The damn Headmaster and the rest were all over that, without even _asking_ where I'd found this!" An evil grin then slowly appeared on Remus' face, as he chortled, "I'd have been actually telling the truth if I mentioned then this spell had been in the library, but those prats didn't even let me say that, not that I'd have told them it wasn't the _Hogwarts_ library, but the one at Unseen University!"

Continuing over the gleeful snickers of the others, Remus added sarcastically, "Of course, Dumbledore could have gotten that secret out of my mind in an instant using Legilimency, which he used on everyone else without any regard for their mental privacies, if it wasn't for my unfortunate condition that kept him from doing this. But then, the Headmaster just took it for granted that a dead-broke, lonely werewolf would be so grateful for the slightest crumb of friendship and employment that this member of the lowest class in the wizarding world would always stay absolutely loyal." A flash of savage resentment flickered through Remus' eyes at his final words.

In a more somber mood now, Harry and Sirius regarded their enraged friend, as the Black wizard then reminded everyone there, "We'll get our revenge, Moony, all of us, starting right now."

"It still doesn't seem enough," grumbled Harry, crossly looking back at the two older men seated next to him at the university dining table.

Remus shook his head in disagreement, having been distracted from his anger by his newly-adopted godson's complaint. "Harry, we _do_ know the wizarding world better than you, and trust us, those who deserve it will totally pay, in the proper amount relating to their crimes. At the start of this, those who honestly meant to help you and whose only offense is blindly following Dumbledore will be fittingly punished, probably right now, as per our agreement with the Patrician."

Holding up one finger in his familiar lecturing mode as a schoolteacher, Remus begin "Once the entire Order's been rounded up by the Watch and given the rough edge of Commander Vimes' tongue, they'll be permanently banished from Ankh-Morpork, with a warning that much worse will happen if they ever dare to come back here and bother you again, Harry. Of course, to a wizard, there's not much worse than having your wand snapped, which then will happen to them all, no matter how much they object."

A second finger went up in the werewolf's hand. "The first inkling that the Order will then receive of how much trouble they're in and exactly who did it all to them will then begin to occur to those wandless wizards and witches, when they're handed a portkey. Something that _nobody_ here on the Discworld should know about."

A grim show of teeth by Remus was now added to his upraised hand. "Once used, that portkey will send them to a certain spot back in the wizarding world, and it'll keep them there, even if the Order wants to leave. And they'll certainly want to disappear right away to anywhere else than there, in the middle of the Ministry of Magic hall, which will at that moment be filled totally up by goblin representatives from Gringotts, the entire Wizengamot, members of the International Confederation of Wizards, and all the heads of the Ministry. Not to mention reporters from every single magical newspaper and other media, not just in Britain, but from other countries."

Accompanied by Sirius' nasty cackling as he contemplated what Remus had just described, that smirking werewolf lifted a third finger. "As per our agreement with Gringotts during the withdrawal of the Black and Potter fortunes, they'll have distributed our pensieve memories of everything the Order of the Phoenix mucked up over the years: your abandonment to the tender mercies of the Dursleys despite your parent's clear wishes, Harry, that resulted in you rejecting the wizarding world; your hasty sentence to Azkaban without even a trial, Sirius; and my own experiences in being ordered to fight using only stunners and other weak spells against Death Eaters falsely claiming to be under the Imperius curse when they were captured and being set free again by the Ministry upon payment of the proper bribe."

Bringing down his hand, Remus looked at an attentive Harry thoughtfully biting his lower lip as the boy watched the older man outline the eventually fulfilled plans they'd spent so much time creating. "We - Sirius and I - did speak up for most of the Order, since they at least tried to contend against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, Harry. I do admit that they'll have to take their chances then, but Hagrid, McGonagall, Flitwick, Moody, and the others will still get off pretty lightly, even though they'll surely be considered total idiots for blindly following the orders of the man unquestionably responsible for the whole debacle. Albus Dumbledore."

"And his creature Snape," coldly added Sirius, a look of actual murder now on his features, as that wizard remembered the betrayal of a prophecy that had led to the deaths of James and Lily Potter.

"Yes, that arsehole," agreed a bitter Remus in a rare show of obscene language from the ordinarily reserved professor. The teacher now earnestly assured Harry, "Dumbledore will be categorically broken by our revelations, Pronglet. I'm afraid I don't think he'll be ever sent to prison due to all his titles and influence, but he _will_ use up his entire politicial power in a desperate attempt to avoid that. At the very least, he'll be forced to resign all his positions, including Headmaster of Hogwarts, be in absolute disgrace, and retire to the most isolated spot in the wizarding world he can find, living in total obscurity. He'll never be respected again."

After a few moments of silence among themselves after Remus had finished, a brooding Harry asked, "What about Snape?"

This time, it was Sirius who confidently answered, "Harry, that bastard will be left holding the bag. Once Dumbledore's out of the picture, his pet Death Eater won't be under his protection anymore, and Snape will stand trial in lieu of the rest of those dead pillocks that just got turned into vapor a few minutes ago. He'll be made an example of, for sure, maybe even executed. Even if that doesn't happen, a life sentence in Azkaban is certainly the slightest punishment he'll receive." At that last comment, a truly malicious glint appeared in Sirius' eyes, as he then gleefully mused, "Maybe he'll get my former cell. Wouldn't that be totally marvelous?"

Giving his sniggering Hogwarts comrade a very dry look, Remus now turned to a sulking boy, as the werewolf insisted, "Harry, it's over, I assure you. Please tell us it's enough, so we can now get on with our lives here on the Discworld."

There was another long minute of quiet among the trio, as around the table the other wizards finished off their light lunch with a groaning board of cheese and nuts for every single diner, which would hopefully fight off the hunger pains until supper tonight. When they'd have a _really_ proper meal. Finally, as he was anxiously watched by his godfathers, Harry sighed, and reluctantly agreed, "Oh, all right. I suppose those berks after me, every one of 'em, they've all learned their lesson."

As Remus and Sirius then drew in deep, relieved sighs, their respite was abruptly ended by Harry bringing up his own finger to warningly wave this at the two older men, as he menacingly said, "But I'm still holding you _and_ the Patrician to what you agreed, if anybody from that bloody wizarding world ever tries again."

Wincing, Sirius disbelievingly commented, "I still can't believe you got that out of Vetinari," as he shared a flabbergasted glance with an equally appalled Remus over what this pair of wizards had unwillingly concurred to should that specific event ever actually take place.

Harry just shrugged. "He _was _an Assassin once, and those guys really take pride in finishing their jobs, no matter what they have to do about this. I think he actually considered it fairly reasonable, if it ever happens, for me to capture any meddling British wizard I find here, wrap 'em in ropes and a pretty pink bow in their hair, and then drop them into the Dungeon Dimensions as a free lolly for those horrible creatures existing in there."


	5. Chapter 5

Severus Snape stumbled further down the foul alley, managing to ignore in his unbroken daze how his squalid surroundings somehow managed to become even filthier during his journey, and also the soft sounds of stealthy footsteps padding around the area, beginning to follow after the wandering wizard in the warren of alleys where he'd found himself. These furtive noises abruptly halted when Snape too stopped in his tracks among a slight widening of the alleyway, where there was a fraction more dim illumination from overhead. Still paying no attention at all to his location, which included chest-high heaps of rotting trash scattered throughout the crooked lane, the Potions Master again pulled up the left sleeve of his robe, and he once again stared in utter disbelief at the smooth, unmarked skin there on his arm.

It was just as if he'd never received at all the Dark Mark that had previously been there for years, branded upon Snape by Lord Voldemort himself as a symbol of that bitter young man's entry into the ranks of the Death Eaters. Yet, just a minute ago, that obscene tattoo had agonizingly pulsed once, giving Snape barely enough time to claw back his robe, as the dumbfounded wizard had then watched the Dark Mark fade totally out of existence.

Standing there in the stinking alley, the black-clad man could barely bring himself to grasp what must have happened. Voldemort's magical imprint had been linked to that Dark Lord's very essence, and if the Dark Mark was gone…so must also have utterly vanished from existence that malevolent wizard himself. Unlike a specific Halloween years ago, when a certain wand-user's body had been destroyed, leaving behind only a supernatural wraith still managing to control his followers, this time every single trace of the man who'd once been Tom Riddle had passed on from reality.

Voldemort…was gone.

As a result, Severus Snape…was free.

For the next few moments, cackling laughter rang throughout the alley, causing several nefarious figures in there presently taking advantage of every scrap of shadow during their slow advance to at once freeze, giving each other wary looks. After all, when a dozen fins are lazily circling a raft in the middle of an ocean, with this small craft containing only a single shipwrecked mariner, that raft's occupant isn't usually expected to react to his current circumstances by suddenly dancing a hornpipe in celebration of his peril.

Nevertheless, here was someone who'd managed to walk right into the Shades, Ankh-Morpork's worst and most dangerous neighborhood by far, and that guy actually seemed to be _happy_ about this! Quick, mental assessments between possible profits and potential dangers were made, which resulted in minute flicks of his fingers by the leader of the unseen band patiently encircling their gaily laughing potential victim, sending in one particular accomplice with the necessary skills drifting nearer from behind their prey, who'd himself had finally ended his uproarious mirth, wiping away actual tears of joy.

Feeling his facial muscles beginning to protest at being wrenched into unaccustomed positions, Snape shifted his cheerful features into a more somber mien, looking off into the distance as the wizard wondered what exactly to do now. Well, the most obvious thing was to find Dumbledore and the others, to then tell them all the good news-

Wait.

Why?

Come to think of it, he'd just escaped the service of the most feared evil wizard since Grindlewald, so precisely why should Snape put himself again in the power of someone the Potions Master had began to detest just as much as Voldemort? Over the years since becoming a spy for Albus Dumbledore, Snape had watched that so-called Leader of the Light become as obsessed with control and authority as did Voldemort, Snape's other master. Dumbledore had persuaded himself that it was all for the greater good, his manipulations of everyone in the entire wizarding world, and frankly, Snape was fed up to his back teeth with it all.

Previously, he'd faithfully carried out whatever task he'd been assigned by the leaders of both sides, waiting to see who'd win, and now, it seemed to have wound up with a victorious Dumbledore, however it'd occurred. So, what would happen to Severus Snape now? There was no further need for any kind of the secret and dishonest services Snape had provided for the Hogwarts Headmaster, not to mention that during his years of assistance to this lemon-drop addict, Snape had learned about all too many of Dumbledore's numerous skeletons in the cupboards.

The Headmaster had far preferred to work behind the scenes during his exploiting of various crises, which included snatching that Potter brat and dropping it off with this child's Muggle relatives (one of whom was personally known to Snape himself, who wouldn't have trusted Petunia Evans with the care of a rusty cauldron, let alone a wizarding baby). Just that alone, even without a host of other objectionable actions over the years, would in no case put Dumbledore into any kind of good light should these events ever be revealed at large to the wizarding world.

In the alley, Snape crossed his arms and rested his chin upon his chest, all while deep in thought, unknowingly allowing an adroit criminal to then accomplish his needful task. Continuing to pay no heed to his surroundings, Snape contemplated his options, few as they were. In any kind of direct confrontation and/or conflict with Dumbledore, the younger wizard would indisputably lose. Dumbledore simply had too much personal magical power, not to mention his other political influence. It was depressingly obvious to Snape that if he stuck around, it'd sooner or later end up with him dead or in Azkaban. In either case, this would be due to some sort of masterful plot culminating in a teary-eyed Albus assuring himself that it was all for the greater good, and that sacrifices needed to be made.

Standing there, this sacrifice sneered to himself over a certain older wizard's guaranteed hypocrisy, but then a pensive look now appeared upon Snape's disdainful features. Regarding what he'd just thought, about remaining in Dumbledore's employment to resignedly await being disposed of by that bastard, there was an extremely simply solution to this:

Leave.

Over the years, Snape had often yearned for the opportunity to successfully desert both of his idiotic masters and leave them behind to battle each other in their stupid conflict. He didn't particularly care who won, lost, or even if Dumbledore and Voldemort eloped together and set up housekeeping in their rose-covered retirement cottage. Just so they left Severus Snape out of it all.

Unfortunately, the Potions Master was also glumly certain that no matter where he ran, a pair of enraged elder wizards would eventually track him down in whatever magical enclave he'd hidden himself in the British wizarding world, or elsewhere on the planet among other magic users. As for the other obvious alternative - ridiculous! He was _not_ going to disappear among the Muggles!

Here, though…. Well, this place was an entirely different world, and Dumblewould would have absolutely no chance of finding him! Not that this lengthy-bearded wizard would have all that much time to search, considering that I-Have-So-Many-Titles Dumbledore would need to immediately return to their original dimension, to once more pick up the threads of his numerous plots and manipulations. Surely, with all those distractions, Snape would be totally ignored, perhaps for the rest of the Headmaster's life, as long as his former spy made no attempt whatsoever to return to the wizarding world.

Which he wouldn't. Snape had nothing to go back to - no family, friends, or career. He'd always hated having to teach those dunderheaded children at Hogwarts, and this specific wizard also hadn't been looking forward in the first place at having the spawn of James Potter appear in his classroom. Snape was firmly convinced the son of his hated tormentor would be exactly like his father: an arrogant, bullying prat. Even if Lily had lived, that dearly-missed mother couldn't have changed Harry Potter's nature all that-

Severus Snape's musings came to an abrupt mental halt. He'd momentarily forgotten something very important. All those years ago, when Snape had learned of the horrible events that had happened at Godric's Hollow, a broken-hearted wizard had defected from the dark side, to then appeal to Dumbledore for atonement, as the older wizard informed Snape that Harry Potter still lived. Which in turn had resulted in Snape swearing an oath upon his magic to protect Lily's son when that child finally attended Hogwarts.

Frowning in concentration, Snape recalled his vow, to then slowly allow himself a satisfied sneer, as he gleefully spotted a loophole in this declaration so long ago. There were plenty of results which could have made his promise irrelevant over the years, including the death of Harry Potter. While that might not have occurred (actually, maybe it had; who knew just what had happened when Voldemort had died a few minutes ago? Maybe he'd taken Potter junior along with him in their mutual demise.), there was something else entirely from several weeks ago that had canceled out Snape's oath.

In his arrogant reply to the Hogwarts letter inviting him to come to that castle, Harry Potter had then unequivocally refused to attend the wizarding world's premier magical school. Which in turn rendered absolutely invalid Snape's promise to look after that boy while he was there. Even if young Potter had changed his mind since then, or if Dumbledore had finally attained absolute senility and insisted upon bringing back from this vile-smelling place that little horror with him to be one of those tiresome Gryffindors, it still didn't matter. Snape no longer had to keep his vow.

A rare tight smile upon his lips, Snape nodded shortly once to himself, as he now considered a final objection to his new plans of living here. One thing this dimension had in common with his former home was an irksome excess of Muggles. Still, from what he'd seen during his short time here, those non-magical people taking up all too much space in this fetid city were nothing at all like those annoyances unsuspectingly surrounding the British wizarding world, what with their cars and electricity and airplanes. (Among just one more thing that Snape detested about Arthur Weasley was that man's inability to at the very least pronounce the words correctly.)

Haughtily glowering straight ahead, Snape contemplated with utter pleasure that here and now in this location, all of those Muggles out there were living just like those a few centuries ago in his former dimension, when a mere flick of a wand would put anyone attempting to interfere with a wizard into their proper place: face-down in the muck. Without actually thinking about it, Snape reached into his right sleeve to touch his wand nestled there in its lower arm holster-

It wasn't there.

Frantically pulling up his robe's sleeve, Severus Snape stared with absolute horror at his empty wand holster.

Right after that, this man then heard from behind himself a gloating chuckle, with a rasping voice then tauntingly asking, "Looking for this, _Mister _wizard?"


	6. Chapter 6

Spinning around at once, Snape gaped at where two strangers were standing before him, several yards further up the alley. Both of these men were smirking at the wizard, with the taller of the pair idly twirling Snape's wand in his right hand. As a crooked grin pulled back the mass of scar tissue that covered the entire right side of his head, this man also placed his free hand upon the shoulder of the smaller man on his left, a colorless, nondescript person that seemed to blend in with the very air itself.

Once more speaking in his tone of malicious banter, the taller man addressed Snape directly, "Benny here proved again he's the finest pickpocket in the whole city, and it was indeed a wonderful sight to see, him lifting your little stick right under your nose. It even put me in a good mood, and as anyone in the Shades can tell you, that's something rare for One-Ear Jake. So, cully, just strip it all off, every single stitch and coin you've got, and we'll not only let you go in one piece, we'll even provide an escort for you out of our territory. After that, you'll have to figure out on your own how to keep from being arrested by the Watch for indecent exposure on your way home."

Hearing those explicit, utterly derisive orders from that Muggle instantly caused the wizard's always-thin temper to at once snap, and Severus Snape promptly did the worse thing possible, making the biggest and last mistake of his entire life.

He acted like Severus Snape.

At the wrong time, in the wrong place, and _especially_ with the wrong people.

To further underline this wizard's error, let's pause a few moments to examine a certain greasy git's lifetime during the last few decades, and how this shaped his whole character. Over that period, while working as both Dumbledore's spy and Voldemort's Death Eater, Snape did indeed manifest cunning and iron nerves, which kept him alive during his hazardous career in serving two sides at the same time.

Unfortunately for the Potions Master, the mere fact of his survival for so long also lead Snape to believe in himself as something he was most certainly _not:_

Dangerous.

Oh, yes, Snape could easily carry off being menacing, intimidating, and even frightening, at times. To whom, exactly?

A castle full of children.

That wizard teaching in Hogwarts could be as obnoxious as he pleased to anyone in his vicinity, all while knowing that the Headmaster would merely chide the younger man for any excesses, as Dumbledore then benignly returned to his plots in winning back the hearts and minds of the straying Death Eaters. Something this elderly wizard confidently held to be wholly possible; after all, hadn't he brought back into the light one Severus Snape from his service with Lord Voldemort?

Speaking of that, while Snape understood quite well that his life was in deadly peril at every moment in the Dark Lord's presence, that monster also _needed_ the Potions Master for his skills in creating magical concoctions in support of Voldemort's own schemes. Plus, Snape was the perfect pipeline into Dumbledore's camp, picking up priceless information on the plans of the Order of the Phoenix. For those reasons, Voldemort tolerated (albeit with some vicious amusement of his own) how Snape arrogantly treated most of the other Death Eaters with utter contempt, knowing he was virtually safe from any retaliation from the rest of their happy little family.

Not that most of these people in their dress-up masks and robes were all that daunting, aside from one or two of the truly scary there, in both thoughts and deeds, such as Bellatrix Lestrange. In the main, the Death Eaters were a bunch of cowardly, hit-and-run murderers and torturers who enjoyed harming those who couldn't fight back or were caught unawares, like those Muggle animals and pureblood traitors. A disdainful Snape always considered himself much more formidable, what with his dueling skills, than that bunch of clumsy oafs spraying "Crucio!" and "Avada Kedavra!" around the wizarding world.

The odd thing was, Snape had an actual point. Taking into account something that would never happen now, how six Hogwarts students in the Department of Mysteries successfully clashed against twice their number of Death Eaters who were presumably older, more powerful, and more practiced in wand combat, the reputation of Voldemort's forces certainly didn't match their record in actual battle.

Regrettably, it never occurred to Snape that this also applied to _him._ Both of his masters had long ago realized that Snape was too valuable to be risked in open fighting, so this man escaped any chance to learn that charms dueling against an inexperienced Hogwarts student was in no way comparable to raw, in-your-face, life-and-death wizarding violence where doing anything, including doing nothing, could get you killed.

Now, if Severus Snape had spent the last couple of decades of his life completely sure of his magical superiority against the rest of the wizarding world, what do you think his opinion was about the Muggle world?

Anybody actually asking the above question to Snape would have received an utterly blank stare of incomprehension from that wizard, who'd not only never thought about this, he'd also never contemplated that there could possibly be any kind of question about this in the first place. Ever since he'd come to Hogwarts as a first-year student, happily leaving behind his old life and the Muggles in it, such as his father and Petunia Evans, Snape had willingly lived by the following precepts: Muggles were out there, and if you came across them in your wizarding business, you did whatever was necessary concerning these creatures, as per those tiresome regulations laid down by the Ministry of Magic.

The very concept that these non-magical people might have an actual opinion about their treatment by the wizarding world was as inconceivable to Snape as thinking that grass might have a complaint against the possibility of being grazed upon by a cow. And now, in this odoriferous alleyway, a patch of Muggle lawn was telling Severus Snape, Slytherin '71, that he was going to be treated like a cow on its way to the butcher, to then be skinned and otherwise reduced to mere profit.

Snarling, the wizard thrust his right hand towards the Muggle actually _daring_ to put his filthy fingers upon Snape's wand, and then a very bad mistake was made by someone who had absolutely no idea of where he was and how much trouble he'd just created for himself, in this specific locale.

This was the _Shades._

A good part of the city of Ankh-Morpork was rightly likened as a veritable sink of iniquity, but when it came to further describe a certain neighborhood in that place, this metaphor didn't even come close to matching what was best exemplified as a mineshaft plummeting into unimaginable depths of sheer wickedness. Moreover, the brutal denizens of the Shades were outright _proud_ of their sordid home and its ghastly reputation, and they made sure that things stayed the same, no matter who they had to kill. Even now, in the Century of the Anchovy, members of various organizations and associations from the rest of the city, who ordinarily went and did where and what they pleased due to their innate authority, power, or sheer muscle possessed the sensible tendency to avoid entering the Shades, unless they absolutely _had_ to do this in dealing with the natives. And they made sure to leave before dark.

Watchman, Wizard, Thief, Assassin - if you had no genuine business in the Shades, that place would devour you in one gulp and suck out the marrow from your bones. Literally in some cases, as seen by the remnants of intruders contemptuously tossed onto the trash heaps scattered throughout the place. It was _said _this was due simply to the numerous rats infesting the place, but no outsider was really sure, and that slum's inhabitants weren't talking. Some of the toothmarks on the bones looked awfully big…


	7. Chapter 7

Assuming anyone was ever stupid enough to actually inquire of Lord Havelock Vetinari, Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, exactly why such a blot upon the city's reputation hadn't already been cleansed with fire and sword, the end result would have probably included an immediate exit from this ruler's office by that questioner in search of a dry set of underwear. Due to next being asked if he was _volunteering_ for this.

Upon sending a truly chilly smile towards the back of that quickly departing idiot, the Patrician would then peacefully return to his ardous work of governing an unruly metropolis bursting at its seams. Which meant, without the occurrence of a fundamental change in human nature itself, the city would undoubtedly always have _some _sort of place like the Shades.

In Vetinari's iceberg mind, it merely made more sense to keep one specific area under his control, whether limited or not, rather than to just eradicate that place. Even if this form of extreme civic redevelopment was successfully carried out, which the Patrician frankly doubted, a dozen more smaller Shades would then promptly pop up throughout the entire city the very next day. No, better to set out some clear and simple rules that anybody could follow, and ensure that it was in everyone's best interests to obey these. Or else.

Since the 'or else' involved the contant use of a headsman's axe, a noose, and a filled-to-the-brim scorpion pit, things swiftly settled down. The residents of the Shades eventually learned it was wisest to limit their bloodthirsty behavior outside their neighborhood boundaries, and in turn, they were mostly left alone to go peacefully around their daily business there, involving the usual thuggery, banditry, and any other means of extorting whatever valuables or mediums of exchange carried by their victims. Since it was also made quite plain by the Patrician that anyone willingly entering the Shades obviously knew the potential risks of this, everyone on all sides was fairly content.

Well, except for the people who got robbed there. Assuming the survivors had the sheer gall to then come around to complain about this to the Patrician himself, a calm Vetinari simply stared them all down, until these protestors finally realized their mistake and scurried off. Leaving behind themselves a somewhat irked man reflecting that those fortunate individuals had absolutely no idea that one day, it might be vitally necessary for Ankh-Morpork to house within itself an entire neighborhood like the Shades. Filled with the kind of people that would best be described in a more technologically advanced society as each and every one of them having the personality of a rabid chainsaw.

* * *

So…

"Laaahhhdeeez an' gennnlemunnn, we got here today th' Greasy Git hisself! Th' man with the biggest swelled head ever in th' whole wizardin' world, thinkin' he's th' champeen wand-waver of th' entire planet! So powerful that he nivver bothered to demonstrate this to anybody else, 'cuz alla th' rest of th' other wizards are less than th' dust beneath his boots! Which makes th' people with no magic at all even more pathetic an' worthless, who should be thankin' heaven that this man was born to rule 'em all! I humbly present to you…SEVERUS SNAPE!"

Boos, jeers, thrown objects.

"Aaaannndddd from th' dear ol' neighborhood where I was borned an' grew up with a knife between me teeth, I'm so proud I could cry just havin' th' chance to innerduce to you all - THE BOYS FROM THE SHADES!"

Frenzied cheering.

* * *

"Accio wand!"

In the alley, an enraged Snape watched his wand shoot out from the grasp of that scarred Muggle over there, flying through the air towards the wizard, as this robed man easily caught the small stick, with his rarely-used bit of wandless magic now ended. His ire only increased as Snape then glared at the dumbfounded thieves further up the lane, but this fury quickly intermixed with unexpected sadistic glee, as the wizard abruptly realized that there weren't any Aurors from the Ministry of Magic upon this new world! Nobody would come poking around to investigate attacks upon Muggles here! So, when one Severus Snape demonstrated his full displeasure upon that frozen pair there, he could take as long as he liked, doing whatever he wanted! At last, he'd be shown some respect!

Smirking evilly, Snape now waved his wand, opening his mouth while beginning the gesture for an extremely nasty spell that was going to be the first of many-

Right in the middle of this, his wand suddenly jerked in Snape's grip, followed right after by a faint crunching sound. A startled wizard promptly looked at his hand holding this magical implement, which….was now mostly gone. Only a stub of wood an inch or so long was currently protruding past Snape's fingers, emitting several pitiable, weak magical sparks from the sliced tip.

His jaw dropping, Snape now glanced down to see upon the filthy alley ground the remainder of his severed wand lying there, now only an useless stick. A flabbergasted wizard's attention was then caught by something a couple of feet away from his broken wand, where also on the alleyway floor, a small knife was sticking up straight from the ground. This diminutive weapon was still quivering from striking and plunging into the bare earth there.

Tracing the course of the knife's path, Snape slowly lifted his head, until he looked up at the roof of the hovel on his right side, where the head and upper body of another man was showing itself over the peak of this thatched covering. Another small knife was held ready in this stranger's hand, ready for another instant throw.

"Good work, Dagger Tom," came from the man with a single ear, who then strolled forward towards the stupefied wizard, whose sudden hopes for escape were promptly dashed at the added words from the first thief being followed after by the smaller pickpocket. "If our guest tries to leave the party before all the presents have been handed out, put the next one in his leg."

A mild voice from overhead now inquired, "Right or left, guv'nor?"

"Either's fine. Just don't hit the big blood vessels, now."

"No problem, even with the robe. How much d'yer think we'll get for that?"

As Snape cringed backwards in his utter terror, the wizard's paling gaze was caught and held locked with the scarred Ankh-Morporkian, who was now only a few feet away and had eyes as cold and merciless as the edge of the large knife he'd just pulled from his clothing. Snape felt his bowels begin to loosen, just before One-Ear Jake indifferently replied, "Not as much as this cully paid, I'm sure. But we'll make up for that with a little bit of fun for ourselves."


	8. Chapter 8

During his past attempts to seize control, the monster once known as Tom Riddle had never been all that mindful of the potential consequences of his actions. At the very least, it should have occurred to him at some point during his pursuit of ultimate power that it wasn't particularly intelligent to casually torture those individuals who were not only tasked with helping him conquer the wizarding world, these same persons knew exactly where and when he slept at night. So, in his current state of frothing insanity, it was no surprise that Voldemort didn't hesitate at all in blasting Severus Snape with his most savage Crucio curse the instant that Potions Master abruptly materialized among the crowd of Death Eaters. Little things like that spell being totally ineffective, Snape appearing to be stark naked and covered with multiple stab wounds, and the fact that every single one of their group seemed to be totally transparent, which included Voldemort himself, were determinedly ignored by that Dark Lord. As usual.

_Nobody_ was able to ignore what happened next. After all, the Voice that now spoke didn't travel the usual way from the ears to the brain. Rather, every fragment of the intangible shapes bewilderedly clustered around their enraged leader shivered in response to the words that came slamming down like overthrown gravestones.

VOLDEMORT. PRESUMABLY MEANING 'FLIGHT OF DEATH', AS GIVEN IN THE FRENCH LANGUAGE OF YOUR WORLD. THEN, YOU CAME UP WITH THAT _MOST_ INTERESTING NAME FOR YOUR ADHERENTS. I MUST SAY, OF ALL THE SPECIES ON THE DISCWORLD, ONLY HUMANS HAVE THE CAPABILITY TO BE THIS INSULTING.

Whirling around from his unsuccessful casting, Voldemort now pointed his wand straight at the figure standing in front of the entrance to Unseen University, whose main doors had closed by themselves several moments ago, when the wizards inside had returned to their lunch. As the rest of the invaders from the British wizarding world craned to see around the body of their master, they all witnessed beyond there a tall, commanding figure in his midnight-black robe, wearing a death's-head mask, and possessing a scythe with a faint blue glow running along the edge of the blade. As the horrible realization slowly sank into the minds of the Dark Lord's followers, they began to edge backwards, despite knowing how futile this was.

Voldemort, on the other hand, acted exactly as arrogantly in death as he'd done before throughout his entire life, as this shade now angrily demanded, "Identify yourself, scum! How dare you wear the garb I created for my minions! Speak up, or it'll be the worse for you!"

For several long moments, the person dressed all in black coolly examined the wand being aimed directly at themselves, and then the bony fingers grasping the handle of the scythe began to thoughtfully drum upon this, sounding exactly like the rattle of dice upon coffin lids as Resurrection Men gamed among themselves for their deceased victims' jewelry. With the air of a decision being made, the stranger in his robes now caused the scythe to vanish into thin air, as he then slowly stepped forward, while at the same time offering the deadpan comment:

AND YET, YOU ALWAYS MANAGE TO SURPASS YOURSELF IN FURTHER RUDENESS. SO, TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE, AS IT SEEMS TO BE NECESSARY TO INDEED IDENTIFY MYSELF, I SHALL PASS ON OFFERING YOU MY NAME, BUT RATHER, I THINK A DESCRIPTION WILL DO, INSTEAD.

In the very next instant, the mask of the figure standing before the ghosts blurringly expanded, stretching up and to the sides, until it covered the entire sky and surroundings. No longer were Voldemort and his followers standing in the front courtyard of Unseen Universe; instead, they were looking up into sheer blackness, as all around them, rested immense blocks of white material with a faint blue glow clinging to these strange objects.

As the being that had once been a man absolutely terrified of mortality finally realized his fate, he and the rest of his insubstantial followers heard the very last message of their existence:

JUST CALL ME A DEATH EATER…_EATER._

Death's teeth slammed shut.


	9. Chapter 9

As the older of the two girls finished drawing the last of the runes along the edges of the casting circle, Hermione Granger got back upon her feet, her knees cracking from the adjustment in her posture. Ignoring this sound, the Ravenclaw student instead proudly regarded their work.

The enormous disk drawn on the floor of the forgotten room inside Hogwarts Castle had its outer boundary completely covered with magical runes that Hermione and her best friend had spent weeks researching in the castle library. Still, if they pulled this off, the pair would have accomplished the most impressive school project in the last few decades. Plus, they'd finally find out just what had happened a couple of years ago.

An intent expression now flashed across the bushy-haired girl's features, as she contemplated the satisfaction of again learning something denied to herself. Back when she'd been a Firstie, Hermione had been too excited about her entry into the magical world, not to mention an enchanted castle, to pay all that much attention to the uproar that had presently been shaking the entire British wizarding society. She'd been concentrating upon her studies then, without wondering exactly why there seemed to be so many new teachers and staff at their positions in Hogwarts. By the time Hermione had become interested about this, people had become settled in and they were reluctant to discuss the past scandal with a mere student.

It also didn't help that Hermione had annoyed the rest of her house by her obsessive personality and drive to be the most exceptional pupil in the entire castle. Even for Ravenclaws, the possession of intelligence, cleverness, knowledge, and wit could be overdone, particularly by a Muggleborn that had a penchant to be smug about surpassing her competitors. It wound up with a young girl gaining the highest marks in every classes, and not a single friend in any of them. The other houses quickly made up their collective mind about that Granger brain, and they either ignored her or gleefully mocked someone who couldn't understand why she was being given the cold shoulder by everybody.

A very miserable Hermione had spent the summer holidays wondering if things would be different when she took the Hogwarts Express for her second year in Scotland. When the girl had wandered through the railcar corridors during that journey, she found everyone happily occupied with catching up with each other about their lives, and taking no notice of the Ravenclaw student, who'd dejectedly headed back to her lonely compartment, only to find another girl sitting in her seat, blankly staring out of the window at the passing countryside. As Hermione had stood uncertainly in the doorway, an ash-blonde head turned, staring at the dentists' daughter with silverly eyes, as the strange girl dreamily said, "Hello. I'm Luna Lovegood."

For the next couple of years at Hogwarts, you couldn't have separated Hermione and Luna with the strongest Reducto spell possible. The pair of girls were overjoyed at finally finding someone who was willing to be their friend, and they were very good for each other. Hermione's overall bossiness and attempts at controlling everything around herself were either placidly accepted by Luna or simply ignored in that other girl's absentmindness, which tended to somewhat restrain a rather taken-aback Hermione, much to the relief of the other Ravenclaws. It was also quickly understood by the rest of this house, not to mention the entire castle, that any attempts to harass Luna Lovegood would result in the tormentors being hit with some of the most vicious hexes ever seen, dreamed up by a previously timid young witch who now had someone to protect.

As time passed, it all ended up with a fifth-year duo discussing what they could submit as their end of term project. Hermione wanted to do something really impressive, and Luna was willing enough to go along. However, neither could come up with anything truly extraordinary, until after hours of brainstorming, Hermione had absently commented she'd never understood what all the fuss had been about in the wizarding world a few years back. Luna had to admit that neither she nor her father, the publisher of the wizarding world newspaper, the Quibbler, knew all that much either, since they'd both been engrossed with the sudden infestation of numerous Nargles in locations where these creatures had never been seen before, such as Yorkshire and Lancashire. Naturally, this was much more interesting than what other humans had been doing back then, even with the possibility of Harry Potter coming to Hogwarts.

"Who's Harry Potter?" asked a puzzled Hermione.

Three months later, two very excited young women took their places at the opposite ends of the casting circle, and they began chanting the proper words of their spell to summon Harry Potter to Hogwarts Castle, no matter where he was or what he was doing. As Hermione and Luna continued to utter the necessary magical phrases, the runes inscribed along the boundary of the circle on the room floor began to slowly glow, indicating the girls were correctly performing their absolutely unauthorized charm. Also glowing was the most vital part of their spell, the sheet of paper placed in the exact middle of the casting circle, which would act as the necessary link to find and collect someone the pair of Ravenclaw students were most anxious to question. It was only when that specific document on the castle floor had been discovered in the school files and, er, borrowed by the pair of girls (It wasn't stealing! After all, they were just moving that paper to another room in Hogwarts, so it was still in the same place, right?), that Hermione and Luna had felt confident enough their spell would indeed work.

Which, as shown by the increasing glow of both the paper and the casting circle runes, seemed to be correct, as a thrilled Hermione and Luna now finished their spell, shouting at the top of their lungs in unison. In the next instant, an immense flash of pure white light burst throughout the room, momentarily blinding the young women, who reached up to rub their eyes, as they then eagerly peered towards the center of the casting circle.

* * *

As he continued scrubbing his back with a long-handled brush, Harry Potter enjoyed how his deep voice resounded throughout the shower cubicle and the entire bathroom when he hit the high notes from "A Wizard's Staff Has A Knob On The End." Ducking his face into the spray from the front shower head, Harry let the water flow over his face while concentrating upon remembering the next few lines, especially the newest stanza that had been created in honor of Sirius Black, known fondly to one and all at Rosie Palm's as "Good Doggy."

Switching from his back to his front, Harry idly scratched his chin with the brush's bristles. Considering his sixteenth birthday was coming up in just a few weeks, the young wizard thought it very likely that if Sirius had anything to do about it, Harry's celebration of his entrance into adulthood would probably end up at that house of negotiable affection. The older man would also undoubtedly be deep in his cups and happily tossing enough gold around to hire the entire contingent of seamstresses in that place, to make Harry's introduction to the pleasures of the fairer sex a truly memorable one. Though, with any luck, Sirious would at least be sober enough to engage only the human women working at that place.

Grinning at the thought of the forthcoming antics of his godfather, and the resulting sardonic remarks this would surely cause Remus to utter, Harry grabbed for the bar of soap resting in the tiled hollow set in the shower wall with his free hand. He started lathering up his chest, and then Harry smirked as he glanced down at an impressive body that showed he'd likely become earlier and more experienced in carnal affairs than the older generation might have ever guessed.

Years of eating big dinners at the wizard's table in the Great Hall of Unseen University had finally caused a growth spurt that had brought Harry out of the small stature created by the malnutrition he'd suffered at the Dursleys. He'd not only shot up, he'd grown out in various dimensions - front and back and sideways - until a disbelieving Sirius and Remus both confirmed that Harry now had a few inches on his father, and a lot more muscles, to boot. Those specific parts of his new body were used much more often than the usual unhealthy run of wizard at UU, since unlike them, the stepson of the Librarian was firmly informed by that orangutan: "Oook."

Harry didn't actually need this stern command, what with an entire city out beyond the university's walls, just filled up with an enormous amount of fascinating trouble to get into and put him in tip-top shape. Accompanying the trainee Assassins in their practice scaling of the city's walls and buildings, working out with the City Watchmen which included such powerhouses as Captain Carrot and Sergeant Detritus, and assisting his stepfather with restraining some of the more belligerent encyclopedias in the Library all contributed to giving Harry "Oook" Potter a very fit body that was now enjoying its shower-

In a bright flash of light, the water flowing over Harry's nude form abruptly ended, as the young wizard stood there frozen, frantically blinking away the fading spots that had momentarily blocked his sight. About to hastily glance around himself, Harry's attention was instead caught by something lying there on the floor, right between his legs. Peering down with his brilliant green eyes that had long ago been cured of his bad vision, Harry stared at a sheet of paper on the stone floor, easily reading from this the first few lines that seemed oddly familiar:

_Dear Professor McGonagall,_

_I am replying to your letter in order to clear up several of your miscomprehensions._

_Firstly, I am not going to attend Hogwarts under any possible circumstances._

_Secondly, I am not 'eager to begin my magical education.'_

That was as far as an increasingly-horrified Harry got, as the enormous gob of soap lather that had been shielding his modesty so far now finally succumbed to gravity, sliding off to plop onto the face of the exact same rejection letter that a little boy had written so many years ago. That much-bigger (in all descriptions) boy then bitterly said, "Oh, bugger."

This produced simultaneous shocked gasps from either side of Harry, who now frantically twisted his head back and forth, to witness two very pretty girls standing there several yards away, about his age, who both had eyes as wide as saucers while continued to fixedly stare at him, as with extremely odd feelings suddenly blossoming deep inside their bodies, Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood wondered if this recent comment from that stark-naked stranger with the body of a god had instead been an _offer_ by him towards themselves.

If so… Yes! _Yes!_ _YES!_


End file.
